


Late Halloween

by PumpkinDoodles



Series: Late Halloween [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternative Universe Post-HYDRA Reveal, Chevy Impalas, F/M, Halloween, Late at Night, Rumlow is Sweet and Kinda Traumatized, The nickname Bettie., Weird SHIELD Office Parties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-20 19:05:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16561559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PumpkinDoodles/pseuds/PumpkinDoodles
Summary: Strange things happen when Darcy tags along with Thor & Jane to SHIELD's belated Halloween Party....





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing! Someone expressed sadness that there was no Halloween party in one of my Darcy Christmas stories set on Nov. 1st and that got me thinking....

“So, why does SHIELD throw their big Halloween party the week _after_ Halloween?” Darcy asked. She was dabbing white pancake makeup on Thor’s face.

“I have no idea, my Lightning Sister!” Thor said cheerfully. Jane came into the bathroom with his wig and green shirt. It was Darcy’s wig from her last several Halloweens--she’d gone as Morticia Addams or Vampira, depending on her mood. Tonight she was just clipping in fake bangs and going as Fully Dressed Bettie Page in a retro-ish outfit that she’d worn last Monday to the grocery store. She didn’t know any of these people, anyway. They’d probably all think she was Katy Perry. Fury was trying to get Jane to be a SHIELD scientist--they’d had some brain-drain issues when employees quit in droves after an aborted HYDRA coup foiled by Captain America and a crew of still-loyal triple agents embedded within the dumb octopus--but Jane was resisting. She still thought they were jackbooted thugs. Darcy was happy being Jane’s eternal assistant at a variety of colleges; there was always something fun to do.

“It’s something about Halloween being a big emergency mission night, Steve told me when he called to invite us,” Jane said, helping Darcy tuck all of Thor’s blonde hair under the dark wig.

“It looks great,” Darcy said.

“He is going to kill you,” Jane said, grinning.

“My brother will need to catch me first,” Thor said, grinning back. He had an uncanny Loki grin.

“Hold on, I gotta contour you in some more cheekbones. Make fish face,” Darcy told him. “Do you think he needs a lip stain?” she asked Jane.

“What is lip stain?” Jane asked. She was wearing her regular flannels and just tying a bandanna on and going as Rosie the Riveter. Captain America had suggested it.

“I live with philistines,” Darcy said, sighing. “Why can’t I have become the assistant to Charlie Green?”

“Who is Charlie Green?” Jane said. Darcy shook her head.

“British makeup artist. We met her at that thing I dragged you to in London,” Darcy said.

“Oh, she was nice,” Jane said. “She likes dogs.” Thor nodded and smiled brightly. The juxtaposition of his ‘Thor loves dogs’ face and Loki makeup made Darcy giggle.

 

SHIELD’s headquarters--a building called The Triskelion--had been damaged during the whole HYDRA mess more than six months ago, so the organization had relocated to a rented complex in the DC suburbs while the older building was repaired. “This is so...regular,” Darcy said when they pulled up. Except that it was huge, it looked like a normal, beige office complex. Or a megachurch. Low and sprawling with those evergreen shrubs and loads of parking spaces.

“Steve told Thor when Fury called me in for that meeting that the Triskelion almost collapsed,” Jane said. “It’s going to take years to fix. The 41st floor was grazed by one of the helicarriers.”

“Who thought those were even a good idea?” Darcy said quizzically.

“The Nazis,” Jane said. “But don’t joke in front of Steve, he’s still upset.”

“No freaking kidding,” Darcy said. “I can still pinch Steve’s butt though, right?”

“I think the good captain would be heartily sad if you did not,” Thor said. “It is now the first thing he tells everyone about you.”

“Fabulous, my assistant the groper,” Jane snarked.

“You’re just jelly,” Darcy said, hopping out of the car.

“Aye, I believe that she is!” Thor said happily. He wasn’t jealous of Steve. Darcy thought she’d caught some seriously relieved vibes when it turned out Cap couldn’t lift Mew-Mew.

“Both of you can bite me,” Jane said cheerfully. “Besides, Steve’s going to love my costume.”

 

Speaking of the Star-Spangled Man with a Plan, Steve was standing near the main doors, talking to someone. “Cap!” Darcy said, hug-tackling him. “How’d you know we were here? Also, you’re just wearing the suit?”

“How would you pinch me if I didn’t wear my suit, Darce?” he said, grinning and wrapping an arm around her waist. “I heard you all from inside.”

“Hi, Steve,” Jane said.

“My good captain!” Thor said.

“That’s some costume,” Steve said, looking at his Loki outfit. “That’ll be all over social media tomorrow. Jane, you look swell.”

“Thanks, Steve,” Jane said, blushing slightly. Steve had that effect on both genders. Darcy hadn’t let go of him yet.

“C’mon in and meet everybody. This is my friend, Sam Wilson,” Steve said.

“Hi,” Jane said.

“You will know Sam of the Wilsons as the Falcon!” Thor said.

“Uh-huh,” Darcy said, smiling and shaking his hand. “It’s great to meet you.”

“They’re throwing this shindig in the auditorium,” Steve told them, as they walked under a bit of fake cobwebbing. There was loud Halloween music and glittering spiders that led in a path to the auditorium. Costumed people were drinking clusters around the wall.

“It’s like a weird adult prom,” Sam quipped.

 

The party was wild. There was an edge to it, Darcy realized, after she’d been there for twenty minutes. A sort of strange desperation to drink and dance. “Everyone seems a little…” she began. She was dancing with a tall Australian STRIKE agent named Jack Rollins. They were the commando-y guys who worked with Cap on mission.

“We’re all mad here, love,” Jack joked. “I half expect someone to start bloody keening in the middle of this party.”

“Yeah,” Darcy said. Keening was the right word. A wail for the dead. A drunk woman in a Poison Ivy costume drifted by them, being comforted by Steve as she wept. Her glittery makeup was all smudged.

“I still see them, Cap…” she was saying. A few minutes later, there was a minor scuffle between two guys near the bar.

“STRIKE Echo and STRIKE Charlie,” Jack explained. “Echo had more HYDRA moles on it.”

“Oh,” Darcy said. “That’s got to be weird for everybody. You were STRIKE, too?”

“Alpha. I was a triple agent, actually,” Jack said, looking oddly feral as he looked over Darcy’s shoulder at someone. “Embedded with Nazis for six bloody months, couldn’t even speak in me own voice, got shot four times trying to take in Pierce, and people still look at me funny, like I’m a traitor.”

“Oh my God,” Darcy said. “I’m really sorry, Jack.”

“It’s all right, love. Other men suffered worse, I got no right to complain,” he said. “I’m alive and well.”

“Hey, Jack! Jack!” a man yelled. “Come do the accent!”

“Now I perform like a trained bloody seal for the guys in legal who ran out of the building,” he said dryly. “I’m sorry, you’ll have to excuse me.”

“It’s okay, Jack,” she said, patting his arm. “I’ll see you.” She smiled at him.

 

She wandered around the party for a while, working on her single drink, but the riotous mood only seemed to be increasing. It all made Darcy feel a little nervous. She decided to go out for air. She stepped out of a side door and looked out into a parking lot. It was like the side exit at a movie theater, actually. Darcy clomped down to sit on the curb. She’d been listening to her music for a minute when she realized someone else was standing several feet away, leaning against a ramp railing with his beer. Startled, she jumped. “Sorry,” he said. “Didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“It’s okay, I’m naturally jumpy,” Darcy explained.

“That so?” he said. All she could see was the side of his face, but she thought his costume was really cool--he was some sort of undead greaser, she thought. He had Elvis hair, a leather jacket she coveted, and really convincing scar makeup.

“I had a teacher who asked me if I was abused as a child once,” Darcy said. Which was true. She’d jumped when Mr. Ellis had shut a drawer in his desk; he’d been joking. “I like your costume. I’d kill for that jacket,” she told him. He looked at her and smirked. It made his scar makeup stretch and flex. It was truly impressive, Darcy thought.

“What are you supposed to be?” he asked.

“Fully Dressed Bettie Page,” she said. “The bangs are fake, the clothes are real.” He laughed.

“So, you’d wear my jacket, huh?” he said, looking at his beer bottle.

“Absolutely. I wore this outfit to the grocery store last Tuesday,” she said, gesturing to her pedal pushers and red sweater.

“What is it you think I am?” he said.

“One of the greasers from _Sometimes They Come Back_?” Darcy said. He chuckled.

“Sometimes they do,” he said, smirking.

“I was obsessed with that movie when I was little,” she said.

“You a probie agent, Bettie?” he asked.

“Uh, no,” Darcy said. “I’m Jane Foster’s assistant. We’re here with Thor. Darcy Lewis.” She gave him a little wave and immediately felt like she’d done a dork thing.

“Not having a good time?” he asked quietly.

“Ummm, it’s a wee bit on edge in there,” she admitted.

“Yeah,” he said, swigging his beer. They were both silent for a few minutes. “What are you listening to?”

“An Elvis song called “Make Me Know It.” Want to listen?” she asked. She waved an earbud and he walked over and sat down next to her, sliding his booted feet over the side of the curb next to hers. He took the earbud and placed it gently in his ear. He’d even done something to make his ears look burned, she realized. Damn, he had committed to his look. “It’s his first post-Army album, _Elvis is Back!”_

“Nice,” he said, after a moment. He didn’t take her earbud out until a few songs had played. Instead, he stretched his legs out. Her playlist switched over to Lucinda Williams’ “Are You Alright?” He looked at her without seeming to look at her, Darcy thought. “You like old cars, Bettie?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said. He handed her back her earbud.

“Come with me,” he said. “This is my new project.” He led her into the parking lot and stopped next to a low black car parked under one of the lights.

“Oh my God,” Darcy said. “She’s beautiful.”

“1959 Chevy Impala,” he said. “Did you want to drive?”

“Um, I can’t actually drive manual transmission, I never learned,” she admitted. Darcy circled the car, slightly transfixed. The tail lights were crazy. They fanned out like wings. She was still looking at the car--the black paint was impossibly glossy and the interior was vividly red--when he spoke again.

“Get in the car, Bettie, I’ll drive you around,” he said.

“This is incredible,” she said, getting into the passenger side. “I love these bench seats. Why did we ever get rid of those? And steering wheels like that and, uh,...”

“Keys?” he said archly, as he drove her out of the parking lot. The engine was louder and more aggressive-sounding than she’d imagined.

“Yes,” Darcy said. “I miss them.” He chuckled.

“I’m fairly sure the metal steering wheel is a death trap,” he said. “But I thought I could risk it.”

“Can I play with your radio?” she asked.

“Sure,” he said. She found an oldies station. The Ronettes were singing “Baby, I Love You.”

“I love this song,” she said. She was trying to absorb every detail about the car’s interior. She turned to look at the backseat. The upholstery must be new. “Where are we going?” she asked.

“No idea,” he said. They drove for a while. She rolled down the window some--it was surprisingly challenging--so she could feel the breeze as they cruised around.

“Where did you find this car?” she asked.

“A dealership that specializes in classic cars. They called me up five months ago because I’d been looking. Old guy had her in his garage, he died, his kids decided to sell her,” he said. “He kept the engine in fairly good shape, but I replaced some parts, repainted, did new upholstery.” For him, this counted as a speech. He chuckled.

“What?” Darcy said.

“I’ve been looking for this car for years. A car like this. My dad had a ‘70 Impala when I was young,” he said. “I thought I wouldn’t be able to afford one, but then my helicarrier came in.” He sounded sarcastic. She wasn’t quite sure what he meant, but she assumed it had to do with the HYDRA mess. Had he been shot like Jack?

They’d been driving around for almost an hour when he took her to a drive-thru that was open late. “What do you want, Bettie?” he said.

“You’re letting me eat in this car?” she said. He laughed. “Really?”

“Really,” he said.

“Curly fries and a vanilla shake,” she said finally.

He leaned out of the window. “Two curly fries and one strawberry milkshake and one vanilla milkshake,” he said into the drive-thru speaker.

“That’ll be $11.85,” the fuzzy voice from the speaker said.

“You copied me,” she said, digging around her in purse for cash.

“You’re not the only person who likes curly fries,” he said. “Put that away. I’m not taking your money.” He waved at her cash dismissively. When they pulled up at the window, she saw the kid at the register jump a little in surprise at his Halloween makeup

 

“You want to go back?” he asked, once she was eating her curly fries in a nearby parking space. The oldies station was playing Sam the Sham and Pharoahs’ “Little Red Riding Hood” and there was nobody else around. They’d watched the employees do the sad shuffle out of the fast food joint. The lot lights had even dimmed a little. The car didn’t have a modern roof light, so it was very, very dark.

“No,” she said, laughing. “This is the best Halloween party I’ve ever been to. I love this freaking song, it’s so creepy.” He chuckled. Darcy grinned at him. “I’m totally serious. Nobody’s puked on my shoes, this car is amazing, and you bought me a milkshake and curly fries?” she said.

“Are you drunk?” he asked, smiling wryly.

“I have had part of one plastic cup of cheap red wine,” she said. “I just really love curly fries, okay? Don’t be judging me, insanely cool SHIELD person.” She played with her straw and wondered why the heck he hadn’t made a move.

“Uh-huh,” he said.

“You haven’t told me your name,” she said.

“Nope,” he said. She really thought he wasn’t going to try anything--she’d stopped hoping--when he put his milkshake next to hers on the dash to lean over and kiss her lightly. He tasted like strawberries. Darcy was the one who deepened the kiss, craning her neck to press against him and running her fingers through his hair. She climbed practically into his lap.

“I really love whoever invented bench seats,” she said, nuzzling his neck. The prosthetic scars he’d applied there felt smooth and slightly thick. He smelled like some sort of simple woodsy aftershave. Sandalwood? Bay Rum? Darcy sighed.

“Sure you do,” he said, kissing the side of her mouth slowly. It was wildly intense. She was very into him: she knew it because suddenly all the crazy stuff Jane had done after meeting Thor started to make sense to her. She didn’t care that she had no clue what his name was and probably would chase him to Asgard just to be kissed like that again. Darcy reached down to put her hands under his shirt.

“We’re wearing too many clothes,” she told him.

“Shit,” he muttered, abruptly pulling away and sort of dumping her back in her seat. He moved back on his side of the car. She made a little sound of disappointment without meaning to and he grinned for a split-second. She could see his chest rising and falling.

“Get back over here,” she said, fairly certain that he was just as wrecked as she was.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I, uh, shouldn’t have gotten carried away.” He turned to put his seatbelt back on. “Buckle up,” he told her, not looking her way. He sighed and reached for his milkshake, handing Darcy hers first.

“You’re married,” she said flatly, realization dawning.

“Nope,” he said. “Finish your milkshake, Bettie.”

“I don’t understand,” Darcy said.

“You don’t want to do something in the dark that you’ll regret in the light.”

 

They drove back in silence. He pulled up to the curb near SHIELD’s main entrance. He looked at her for a second before she realized it was a silent request for her to get out. He didn’t ask for her number, either. She pulled out her business card--she had a jokey one that said “Care and Feeding of Scientists” on it--and set it on his seat. “I had fun,” she said quietly. “Really.”

“Thanks for tonight,” he said.

 

She watched him drive away and wondered what the hell that was about. In the dark, those oval tail lights looked like red eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have you seen a '59 Chevy Impala's tail lights? You really should: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=peCt6X0l_gg&start_radio=1&list=RDQMU6Ctxe-RQy0


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His eyes...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for all your comments and kudos.

They were staying in DC for a few days. Jane was giving a talk at American University on the importance of scientific exploration and knowledge to inter-realm relations. Thor was tagging along to be supportive; he loved watching Jane do her science stuff in public. Darcy was sure it was going to be a sold out event, so she dropped them off in the rental car at the front of Kerwin Hall and drove around to the far-flung parking space they’d been assigned. Unfortunately, someone had snagged their space already. She waved down the guys in orange vests assigned to parking patrol and explained who she was. The man shrugged. “We can put a boot on him, but that doesn’t give you a space. Try the over-fill lot,” he said, describing a lot another half-mile or so away.

“Thanks,” she said, more out of politeness than anything else. She had no idea if they trained university parking people to be rude or if it was the vests and their little golf carts that did it. She thought having a vest and a golf cart might make her a happier person, but maybe they got yelled at a lot? Darcy went around Ward Circle again and headed back down Nebraska Avenue. She’d stopped at a light and was singing along to Madonna’s “Cherish” when she saw a familiar face in the SUV next to her. She rolled down the window and waved. “Jack!” she called. He turned and waved at her, rolling down his own window.

“Hello, love. You still in town?” he called. The guy driving--a blonde in similar tactical gear--smiled at her.

“Jane’s giving a talk at Kerwin Hall. I’m trying to find a freaking parking space on campus,” Darcy yelled back.

“Good luck!” he called. The lights in front of them turned green and they went in their respective directions. Jack looked behind him in the rearview mirror.  His commanding officer was looking out the window, expression blank. “Sir?” he said, surprised that the other man hadn’t rolled down his window to speak to her.

“Yeah, Rollins?” he asked.

“Any change in plans?” he said. Someone had seen him dropping Darcy Lewis off at SHIELD during the Halloween party and Jack was wildly curious about how he knew the scientist’s assistant. They’d obviously met before. The boss didn’t talk to people he didn’t know. Hell, he didn’t even talk to Jack much anymore; not since he’d come back from from the burn unit. Why not acknowledge Darcy Lewis today?

“No,” he said. “We’ll run those exercises at Langley tonight.”

 

They arrived at the training center. SHIELD had lost their onsite ranges and exercise floors, so now they had to rent space from other federal agencies. They were meeting a CIA agent and the new probationary agents. Fury had slowed down the mission pace so they could train new people, replace the ones they’d lost--there had been fatalities, but a fair number of traumatized agents had also just left the agency. They’d started jokingly calling it “the shakes.” People got shaky and fled. As they came through the door, the CIA agent was studying his tablet. “Welcome to Lang--” he began, then stuttered in surprise as he looked up. He’d seen the first man’s scarred and battered face. The geared-up probie agents--warned about Rumlow in advance--had frozen in discomfort. “Welcome to Langley,” the CIA liaison repeated more smoothly. “I’m Mark O’Connor, with the tactical exercises division.” O’Connor swallowed nervously. “I’m really sorry,” he said. He was clearly embarrassed.

“It’s all right,” the other man said, smirking slightly and offering his burned hand. “I tend to startle people now. Brock Rumlow.”

“Well, we’re all ready for you,” O’Connor said with a kind of forced cheer that made Jack wince. O’Connor shifted slightly, then turned. “Everyone follow me,” he said. They followed the two men into the area of the building converted for exercises.

 

“How angry is he?” O’Connor asked Jack, once they were an hour into the field exercises and Rumlow was standing in front of the monitors, twenty feet away. Jack looked at the other man dubiously.

“Pardon?” Jack said.

“Rumlow. I insulted him,” O’Connor whispered, cringing. “I was just startled.”

“Happens to everybody the first time,” one of the other Alpha guys said, removing his ski mask. They were playing the terrorists. He was on a water break. “Wasn’t too bad, really. Kids are worse.” Kids tended to point. Or ask intrusive personal questions. Sometimes, they screamed in terror and started to cry. The Alpha agents often speculated on how Rumlow bought groceries now. They'd decided he went at night. He tended to stay in the SUV when they got coffee, just to avoid making a scene if they were in a hurry.

“How do you look him in the eye?” O’Connor asked. “His eyes…..”

“You get used to it,” Jack repeated quietly. It was what they said to one another.

 

***

 

“What is going on with you?” Jane said suddenly. They’d survived her lecture, the Q&A afterwards, the faculty dinner after that, and were finally ending the night at a restaurant a few blocks from their hotel that stayed open late. Thor had been dragged off by tourists a few feet away and was posing for funny selfies.

“Hmm?” Darcy asked, looking up from her phone. She’d been checking it.

“You’ve been quiet _all day._ Are you getting sick?” Jane asked.

“I met a guy at the Halloween party. I thought he would call, maybe. He hasn’t called,” Darcy explained.

“Jack?” Jane said.

“Nope, but I did see Jack and the STRIKE dudes in traffic today. Jack’s very nice, but…” Darcy stopped. How could she explain being attracted to someone she really didn’t know?

“Darce, did somebody actually render you speechless?” Jane said.

“I’m a little bit ruined for other men, yeah,” Darcy admitted.

“What’s his name?” Jane asked.

“I don’t know!” Darcy said, rolling her eyes and tapping the bar top. “He wouldn’t tell me. He took me for curly fries and a milkshake and then he just….wasn’t interested in my phone number? I gave it to him anyway.”

“He took you for a milkshake and French fries?” Jane said, shaking her head.

“It wasn’t just french fries,” Darcy said.

“Sure,” Jane said. “I know how romantic French fries are to you.”

“Jane, you know curly fries are a special category of fry, like waffle fries,” she said.

“What’d he look like?” Jane asked.

“So, so cool. He was an undead greaser. Leather jacket, dark hair, very Elvis hair actually--” Darcy began. Jane started to laugh. “What?” Darcy said. “Why are you laughing at me?”

“Okay, so he looks like your dream guy. Any other relevant details? Cigarettes behind the ear, stupidly chunky boots, slight chip on shoulder?” Jane teased.

“He didn’t smoke, but, um, yes on the boots and, uh…...” Darcy said.

“What?” Jane said.

“He had the world’s hottest smirk, it was ridiculous,” Darcy said. Jane started to laugh more.

“Not a smirk, oh no, how will you live without that?” Jane asked between giggles.

“Oh my God, shut up, Jane.”

“Sure, Darce,” Jane said. “But Fury wants to meet with me tomorrow, so we could always look for him?”

Darcy sighed. “What if he just wasn’t all that impressed with me?” she asked. He had blown her off pretty definitively, she thought. If she went around SHIELD looking for him, she’d seem like a crazy-eyed stalker.

“Since when do you worry about that?” Jane said. “He really got to you. I have to meet this guy now.”

“Ughhhhh, why doesn’t he call?” Darcy said, putting her forehead on the bar. “Call, dammit.”

 

***

 

“I’m offering you all the good toys here, Foster. Brand new lab, all the equipment you could want, a generous SHIELD benefits package for you and Lewis. Where is Lewis?” Fury asked, as he led Jane away from her potential new lab space.

“Back at our hotel, doing some errands and paperwork related to my other visiting professorship offers,” Jane said smoothly. Darcy was actually moping in bed. Mr. Halloween still hadn’t called and she was now drowning her sorrows in the peppermint bark that Jane had gotten her as a surprise cheer-up present. Thor was keeping her company. He didn’t like leaving people alone when they were sad. Jane thought she’d probably be buying more peppermint bark.

“Think about what you could do with us. Access to experimental technology…” Fury said.

“Non-disclosure agreements and SHIELD’s burdensome secrecy clauses,” Jane parried back.

“Universities make you sign NDAs, too, Foster,” Fury said in a calm voice. “It’s standard operating procedure in experimental programs.”

“I resent my equipment and research being seized without my knowledge,” Jane said. “I’d want a ninety-day notification before anyone entered my lab premises without my express permission.”

“Ninety days?” Fury said. “You can’t….”

“Oh, yes I can. I do, in fact, expect--” Jane said.

“Foster--” Fury said.

“She can do this all day,” a cheerful voice said behind them. Fury turned.

“Hello, Rogers,” he said, sighing. “Come talk sense into Dr. Foster.”

“Where are you going?” Jane asked Fury.

“I’m going to draw up ninety-day paperwork,” he said grimly. Behind his back, Jane did a little fist bump with Steve.

“This means I’m winning,” Jane said, once Fury was out of earshot. “I should ask for something else expensive.”

“Did you want to check out the break room? I feel like Darce would want you to ask for an espresso machine or something,” Steve suggested. He led her to a large room with several coffee pots and a few circular tables. “Hey, everybody,” Steve said, to a table of men and one woman drinking coffee in tactical gear. “This is Dr. Jane Foster, she might be joining us. You know Jack Rollins, but this is the rest of STRIKE Alpha: Rick Lee, Steve Hernandez, Mike Epstein, Rob Jones, Jennifer Huerta, and Commander Brock Rumlow,” Steve said, indicating the dark-haired man standing with his back to Jane. He turned and Jane was briefly startled. The man looking at her calmly had been horrifically burned. The sunlight from the windows illuminated the mangled state of his left ear and the pattern of scars across his face.

“It’s nice to meet you all,” Jane said, smiling and desperately wishing Darcy was there to make a joke or something. She always handled introductions.

“So,” Steve said, “what’s it going to take for you to join us, Jane?”

“I dunno,” Jane said. “Thank you”--Steve had pulled her up a chair--”it depends on what Fury does next.”

“I’ll get you coffee,” Steve said.

“Let me,” Rumlow said quietly, setting his cup down. “If you don’t mind?”

“Of course not,” Jane said quickly. Had she said it too quickly, she wondered?

“Cream or sugar?” he said, moving over to the coffee pot. He had a nice voice, Jane realized. Very calm.

“Lots of both,” Jane said cheerfully.

“I know Thor would like it if he got to see more of you in one place,” Steve said.

“That’s true,” Jane said.

“Take it from me, Jane, you don’t want to miss out on time you could be spending together,” Steve said seriously.

“Cap, are you giving that lady the hard sell?” Rumlow said, returning to the table with Jane’s cup.

“Yes, he is,” Jane said. "Thank you."

"No problem," Rumlow said.

“I’m just sayin, if there’s anything that would make you stay in--” Steve began.

“I’d think she could make up her own mind, being a PhD and everything,” Rumlow said. He smirked and it reminded Jane of something important. As Rumlow was sitting down, she turned to Steve.

“Steve, help me find the guy who’s got Darcy all in knots?” she asked.

“Then you’ll stay?” Steve said.

“No, no, I’d want at least fifteen grand more a year from Fury and a new Swedish spectrometer, but I really need to find this guy Darcy met at the Halloween party. She gave him her number and now she keeps trying to make him call by yelling “Call me, dammit!” at her phone,” Jane said jokingly. A few of the STRIKE agents laughed.

“What’s his name?” Steve said.

“I have no idea. Neither does she. Apparently, they bonded over their mutual love of curly fries and Elvis and now she’s really bummed that he hasn’t called. I haven’t ever seen her this down, actually. She was over Ian in about ten minutes and they went out for two years,” Jane said.

“Oh,” Steve said. “She really likes him, huh? What’s he look like?”

“Dark hair, leather jacket, a little bit of a 50s undead greaser vibe?” Jane asked. “That sound like anybody you know?” She realized the Rumlow guy was looking at his coffee cup and mentally scolded her herself for saying _undead_. He looked like he’d barely made it out of the Triskelion mess.

“There were about a dozen guys in leather jackets at that party,” Jennifer Huerta said. “Jones in R&D was a zombie biker, that new accountant was Danny from _Grease…_ ”

“And he’s really pale,” Lee supplied.

“I wonder if it might be that new, uh, guy, what’s his name who works in the range?” Epstein said. “Boss, you know his name?”

“Can’t say that I do,” Rumlow said coolly. “I just got back from the burn unit, I don’t know everybody new yet,” he explained to Jane.

“I’m sorry,” Jane said reflexively. He grinned.

“For some reason, people think I’m unfriendly and don’t say hello anymore,” he told her. He stood up. “I’ll be back,” he said quietly, reaching for his phone.

 

***

 

Darcy was sitting in her hotel room bed, splitting some peppermint bark with Thor, when her phone rang. Assuming it was Jane, she answered without looking. “Hey, Janey, you giving Fury hell?” she asked.

“I hear she’s giving him trouble,” a male voice said. “And that you wanted me to call you, Bettie.”

“I did,” Darcy said, trying to keep the giddiness out of her voice and failing slightly.  “Hiiii. Hellooo,” she said.

“I’ve been looking at this business card,” he said, sighing. “Wondering how I live up to curly fries and a milkshake.”

“Another milkshake and more curly fries?” Darcy offered. “I’d be totally happy just to ride around in your car again.”

“Yeah,” he said quietly. There was a long pause.

“Are you ever going to tell me your name?” Darcy asked.

“Brock,” he said, “Brock Rumlow.” Darcy sighed. “What?” he said.

“Even your name is like something out of a fifties pulp novel, it’s a lot of coolness for one person,” she told him. He laughed.

“You’re too impressed by me,” he said. “I’m afraid you’re setting yourself up for a fall.”

“Nuh-uh,” Darcy insisted.

“You ever go to one of those dinner in the dark things?” he asked.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A mini-refresher on what Rumlow looked like, post-burns: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nEeW5ffOWnE


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner in the dark?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for your comments and kudos!

“I’m meeting a woman here for your Dinner in the Dark event. Darcy Lewis?” Brock Rumlow told the hostess at the restaurant that night. Arabella’s had an entire room for their “Dinner in the Dark” service. She stared at him, then recollected herself.

“Uh, um, one woman?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “About 5’3, long dark hair, very beautiful?”

“She’s here already,” the hostess said. “Your server will need to take your elbow?” Her voice was tentative.

“That’s fine,” he said.

“It’s just very, very dark in there,” the hostess explained nervously.

“That’s the idea,” he said, flashing her a slightly terrifying grin. When they got to the doorway to the other room, a waiter with night-vision goggles on his forehead was waiting.

“He’s meeting the woman at table five,” the hostess supplied. The waiter began to speak before he turned to face them.

“I’ll take your ar--arm, sir?” the waiter said.

“Uh-huh,” he said. “She told me. It’s very, very dark?”

“Yeah,” the waiter said. Brock noticed that his hand was a little shaky. “Table five?” he asked the hostess, half-reaching for Brock’s elbow.

“Table five,” she repeated.

“I don’t bite,” Brock said casually. The waiter laughed--a little too loudly--before he took Brock’s elbow, lowered his night-vision goggles, and guided him into the pitch-black room.

“Here you are, sir,” the waiter said. “Here is your chair and I’m Josh, I’ll be your dedicated waiter tonight.”

“Thanks,” Brock said.

“Brock! You’re here! I can’t see you at all,” Darcy said, sounding delighted. “Josh, you brought me a present, it’s so sweet of you.”

“Uhhh, yeah,” Josh said. He liked the woman at table five. She seemed nice. She had to be nice if she’d agreed to go out with this guy. It was funny: when he’d taken her to the table, she’d seemed anxious that she looked okay. For this guy, he thought?

 

“You know,” Darcy said once it sounded like he’d sat down and Josh had left to get them wine, “I really thought they were kidding about the pitch black thing, but this place is pitch black. I can’t see anything. I thought there would be, like, tealights.” Around them, tables were laughing and talking.

“I’m sure you look beautiful,” he said quietly. There was an odd note in his voice.

“Phfffft,” Darcy said. “I’m gonna spill so much stuff on myself, I know it. I’m a spiller. I wore black, just ‘cause I knew.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard anybody describe themselves a spiller,” he said.

“Oh em gee, yes, you should’ve met me in London,” she said. “I was constantly spilling and British people do this weird thing where they are embarrassed for you and somehow that makes it worse than the more American ‘what’s your problem, man?’ you know?” she said. There was a second of silence. “Oh God,” she said. “Your whole family’s British and I’ve just horribly, horribly insulted you.”

“No, no,” he said. “I just barely missed out on being sent to London after you and Foster’s, uh, incident. I was just wondering how close we came to meeting each other then.” Darcy thought he sounded wistful.

“You didn’t want to call me but you wish you’d met me years ago?” she teased.

“Yeah,” he said. “I need to tell yo--”

“Here is your wine and plate number one,” Josh said suddenly near their table.

“Ahh!” Darcy said. “Josh, I’m putting bells on your shoes.” Brock laughed.

“Believe it or not, people say that all the time,” Josh said.

“How many people have slipped you cash to tell them what they’re eating?” Brock asked.

“Uhhhh, it was just one guy...we had to throw him out, so please don’t--” Josh began.

“Don’t worry, Josh. I’ll keep him line. Do we need to, like, move our forks?” Darcy asked.

“Just put your hands in your laps,” Josh said. “I’ll be setting your food on the table. These goggles are kinda bulky, so lean back a little.” Darcy put her hands in her lap, as Josh leaned over them and sat down plates. It was so weird.

“Okay,” Darcy said.

“There you are,” Josh said. “Enjoy your first plate.”

“Thanks,” Brock said.

“Thank you,” Darcy said. She picked up her fork and attempted to eat. “Oooh,” she said. “I think that’s tomatoes? Do you taste oregano?” She poked at her plate. “I think it’s bruschetta. I feel bread.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Huh.” She stretched her legs out and felt her foot brush against something.

“Brock, is that your foot?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said. She gently rubbed her foot against his ankle and heard him inhale slightly. “Darcy,” he said in a low voice.

“Uh-huh,” she said happily.

“Are you trying to make me crazy?” he asked quietly.

“Absolutely,” she said.

“Eat your unseeable food,” he said, almost sternly. Then he laughed as she wiggled her toes against the inside of his ankle. There was an edge to his laughter. “Oh God,” he murmured, “you’re going to kill me.” She stopped making circles with her foot and decided to behave. She moved her foot away.

“Okay,” she said, trying to lift the bread to her mouth without spilling food everywhere. It was touch and go. She was chewing when she heard him sigh. “What?” she said.

“I shouldn’t have told you to stop the foot thing, I miss it,” he whispered. She burst out laughing.

“Too late, I’m being all ladylike--shit,” she said.

“What?” Brock said.

“I think I spilled food in my lap,” she said. He laughed. “Rahhhhhhhh, this is ridiculously fun and silly,” she said.

“Oh,” he said.

“What?” she asked.

“I think mine has feta,” he said.

“I want feta,” she said enviously.

“Here,” he said, holding his hand out. He chuckled. “I’m holding my hand out.” She reached until she bumped his arm, then felt for his wrist, then used her other hand to take the bread. His hand was warmed ands calloused, just like she remembered.

“I think I got it,” she said. “Oooh, it is feta. I never realized feta was so salty.”

“This is so weird,” he said. “Listen, Dar--”

“How’s everything going?” Josh said suddenly. There was a clang.

“Jesus Christ,” Brock muttered. “I think I dropped my fork.”

“Happens a lot, I’ll get you another one,” Josh said cheerfully. “I’m here with your second plate.”

“Have we finished our first one?” Brock asked. Darcy burst out laughing again.

“We really can’t tell,” she said, between giggles.

 

“I think it’s a salad,” Darcy said, sniffing her fork, once Josh had deposited the second plate and left. Or she thought he’d left. Who could really know? He could be right there at her elbow, she’d never know. “I smell onions and maybe a dressing? Like a balsamic vinegar?”

“Uh-huh,” he said. She could hear him chewing. “I think it’s uh, that dark, leafy salad, what the hell is it called? Not spinach or kale, it’s an a word, like--”

“Arugula!” she said excitedly. “I freaking love arugula.”

“You love arugula?” he teased.

“I doooooo,” she said. “It’s all peppery. Oooooh.”

“What?” he said.

“I got a parmesan shaving, it’s very good,” she said. He coughed. “You okay?” she asked.

“I got a little cracked pepper,” he said.

“You know, what this salad needs is some baby shrimp,” she told him.

“Baby shrimp?” he said.

“There used to be this nice restaurant in my hometown where tiny, sautéed shrimp was a salad add-on. I miss those,” she said. “I think they sautéed them in butter.”

“Huh,” he said. “Tell me about where you’re from?”

“I’m from Raleigh, North Carolina originally, but my life is very boring,” she told him. “Nothing exciting happened to me until I met Jane and then New Mexico and everything went waaaaaaaah, you know? Tell me about you,” she said. “I don’t even know what your job is?”

“I, uh, I’m the commanding officer of STRIKE Alpha,” he said quietly.

“With Jack?” she said delighted. “I met him at the party.”

“I’m kind of Jack’s boss,” he admittedly quietly. “Before that, I was on the team as a regular agent. When I first started as an agent, I worked for the New York field office. That’s where I’m from. The Bronx, originally.”

“An actual city with stuff,” she said. “What’s that like? I have city envy.”

“City envy?” he said.

“When you live in all these weird remote places with observatories and night sky and whatnot, you looooooong for, like, a hot pretzel shop,” she told him.

“Oh, yeah?” he said. “Well, when I was younger, it was a little bit rougher than it is now, but it was a real neighborhood, you know? I grew up with my cousins down the block, shops and restaurants had been there forever, like a community.”

“Do you get back often? It’s, what, four hours away?” she said.

“Eh,” he said, sighing. “Not that much anymore. My parents retired to Florida--they hate Florida--so there’s not that many people for me to visit.”

“They hate where they retired?” Darcy said.

“Yes,” he said, “they hate it, but they refuse to admit it. They just sit around and argue about whether or not they should move because of the hurricanes and complain about the sun.” Darcy laughed.

“That actually sounds entertaining,” Darcy said.

“Uh-huh,” he said. There was a quiet pause. Darcy could hear the other tables talking and people laughing. She tuned into the chatter around them for a second:

 

“Oh, shit, I just knocked over my drink--”

“Ahhhhh, this is nerve-wracking, where is my mouth? I can’t find--”

“Is that a noodle? I think it’s a noodle--”

 

She laughed. “What?” he said.

“I just heard someone say they couldn’t find their mouth,” she whispered. “This was such a fun idea.”

“You think so?” he asked.

“Absolutely,” she said. “You’re fun. Really fun.” He sighed heavily.

“I’m actually not,” he said. “I have a confession to make: I invited you here for another reason--” There was a crash as someone knocked off a glass and it shattered nearby. “Are you okay?” he asked in concern.

“Yeah, yeah,” Darcy said.

“Be careful,” he said. “I don’t want you to cut yourself in the dark.” They could hear the waiters coming to clean up the glass.

“Hi,” Josh said suddenly.  “Sorry about that, I’m here with your next plate.”

“Can you look around for glass?” Brock said seriously. “I don’t want her to be in glass and not see it.”

“Oh, that’s about five tables away, it just sounds louder and closer,” Josh said. “Here you go.” He set down two plates, Darcy thought and another wine glass for her.

“Did you want another beer, sir?” he asked.

“No, just water, thanks,” Brock said.

“Did you drive the Impala here or something?” Darcy asked, when she wondered why he wasn’t drinking.

“Yeah,” he said. “You really like my car, don’t you?”

“Yup,” she said. “I like you, too.”

“Just a little, huh?” he said.

“I was so glad when you called. I’d been super mopey. Thor and I had a total sad girls’ day,” she told him.

“What’s a sad girls’ day?” he asked.

“You sit around in your pjs and eat snacks and chocolate,” she said. “And watch terrible things on Netflix or soap operas and make fun of them. Thor is really good at the making fun part.”

“You liked me that much, huh?” he said.

“Yes,” she said. “What are we eating?”

“Hmm. I think this is beef?” Brock said.

“It does taste like beef and maybe ginger?” Darcy said.

“Scallions?” he suggested.

“You know what I really like?” she said.

“No,” he said, “tell me.”

“Mashed potatoes with horseradish, Jane thinks it’s weird?” she said.

“Doesn’t sound weird to me,” he said.

“I’ll make it for you sometime,” she told him.

“Are you agreeing to another date?” he said quietly.

“Umm, I think I actually offered to _cook for you_ which is nuts,” she told him. He laughed.

“I should be flattered, huh?” he said.

“Definitely.”

“Shit,” he muttered.

“What?” Darcy said.

“I’m having guilt,” he said. “Because I haven’t told you why I picked this place and it gets more difficult the longer we sit here.”

“Yeah?” she said gently.

“I was pretty badly injured when, uh, everything happened,” he said. “Wasn’t something a regular person is meant to survive”--he sighed--”which is fucking ironic, let me tell you.”

“Yes,” she said softly. In the dark she felt around the edge of the table until she grazed his fingers.

“Don’t,” he said, sounding slightly choked.

“Okay,” Darcy said, pulling back slightly. She kept her hand near, though.

“Well, uh, I’m reasonably okay now--I can do everything I used to do, I’m working again--but there was scarring--fuck,” he said, as Darcy heard a beeping noise. “This is my work phone,” he said, sighing. He reached into his pocket and turned it on. The blue screen was very bright in the dark room.

“Sir--” Josh said, coming over in alarm. No one was supposed to use a phone during dinner in the dark.

“Sorry, Josh,” he said, “federal law enforcement.” Darcy thought he flashed a badge, but she was momentarily distracted. “Can you run this card?” he asked Josh. “I need to leave. Thanks.” He turned off the phone again.

“I’ll get that done,” Josh said.

“Just charge anything else she needs or wants,” Brock said.

“Be right back, sir,” Josh said.

“Hey, you don’t have to--” Darcy began.

“But I am,” he said warmly. “I want to.” It might be their last date, he thought. He expected her to run away screaming when she realized his “Halloween costume” was his actual fucking face now. He sighed.

“Hey,” she said, “I really want to see you again.”

“Do you?” he asked.

“I can take you out, sir,” Josh said, coming back to the table. Darcy heard Brock get up and felt, rather than knew for sure, that he was standing next her. She reached out and held his wrist.

“Hey,” she said. She kissed the back of his hand and felt him shiver in the dark. “I’d really kiss you, but I can’t find your mouth in the dark. Third date?”

“Sure you would, Bettie,” he said teasingly. “Eat my dessert for me.”

“Absolutely,” she said.

 

***

 

“Hey, Darce,” Jane said, when she came back to the hotel suite. “How was the weird date with Mr. Halloween?” When Jane finished at SHIELD, Darcy had already departed for the restaurant. Darcy had left a note with a big smiley face about going to a dinner in the dark.

“Wonderful, until he had to go in the middle of our pitch-black dinner. It really was totally dark. Our waiter wore night-vision goggles.  I couldn’t see a thing, it was so much fun,” she said. “I brought home some of his cheesecake and what I assume was steak.” She sat the boxes on the table in their living room area. Thor was snoring on the couch. “He’s really great, Jane. He called another SHIELD agent to pick me up and had the waiter come tell me that there was someone taking me home. A lady SHIELD agent, so it was less weird. Sharon Carter? She’s like, Steve’s surrogate family, remember?”

“Oooh, yeah, Steve talks about her constantly,” Jane said.

“She told me a bunch of funny stories,” Darcy said. “Also, I made her give me his number. I’m not letting him get away again.”

“So, you like him?” Jane said. “I can’t believe he called you today when I was just talking about him with Steve and some of the STRIKE Alpha guys.”

“It was a really good date. Jane, he _is_ one of the Alpha guys,” Darcy explained.

“Oh, really? Which one?” Jane said, delighted.

“Brock Rumlow,” Darcy said.

“Oh,” Jane said, trying to make her face neutral. Darcy was smiling at her happily. “Do you like him?” Jane said tentatively. “I met him today and…”

“So, you’ve actually seen him in daylight and I haven’t?” Darcy said. Jane looked stricken.

“Oh God, Darce. I don’t know how to tell you this--he was badly burned during the Triskelion thing. Did he tell you?” Jane asked.

“He tried a few times,” Darcy said. “I realized when he turned his phone on. Phone screens are really bright in the dark.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dinner in the dark events are real things! This one is purely silly/comedic, but a lot of them I've read about online have an educational facet and the waiters and waitresses are often visually-impaired: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=drmUcsaWAH8


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The constellations on Asgard wouldn't quite look the same, would they? Let's pretend they exist for this chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for all your comments and kudos. Y'all are awesome sauce.

“Rumlow,” Steve said, “have you seen this memo about new agent training?” They were onboard the quinjet, nearing their borrowed landing strip in the DC suburbs. Rumlow was looking at his phone. “Rumlow?”

“Huh? Sorry, Cap,” he said, tucking his phone back into his pocket. Steve caught a brief glimpse of what looked like a woman’s face on the text avatar.

“You see that memo?” Steve repeated.

“Yeah,” Rumlow said.

“I’m concerned we’re rushing the probie agents,” Steve said, sighing. “What do you think?”

“It’s difficult to say,” Rumlow said. “But I’ve recommended that we spread the probie agents across teams and maybe pair them in mentoring programs with experienced agents. We just don’t have a lot of interest in mentoring right now, with everything. It might help us--really, help me--if you ran that show, Cap,” he explained.

“Ran that show?” Steve repeated.

“Be the public face”--Rumlow chuckled to himself--”of our little STRIKE mentoring group? People get the shakes when they find out I’m running the program. They don’t think I’m inspiring. I dunno why.”

“Yeah, I’m happy to help,” Steve said seriously. He’d frowned a little.

“He is trolling you, but we do need help pairing mentors with probie agents,” Natasha Romanoff said, joining Steve.

“Don’t tell him, Romanoff,” Rumlow said. “It ruins the gallows humor if you explain it.”

“I got the joke,” Steve said. “I’m just disappointed that our experienced agents would react that way. It’s not right.”

“It’s life. I’ll let you make a Cap is Disappointed face at them during the next staff meeting,” Rumlow said. He smirked slowly.

“All right,” Steve said firmly.

“Which is about forty-five minutes from now,” Natasha said.

 

***

 

The STRIKE staff meetings were held bi-monthly; it was difficult to get all the teams together at one time. Maria Hill usually ran them with input from each of the STRIKE Commanders. Most everyone had arrived when Steve and the rest of them appeared in the doorway. Steve was wearing his ‘Captain America is Disappointed’ Face. “Maria,” he said to Hill quietly, “can I say a word about the mentoring program at the beginning? I’m going to run point of this from now on.”

“Of course, Cap,” Hill said. “Let me do some announcements and then I’ll let you have the floor for a few minutes?”

“Thank you. I appreciate that,” Steve said. He sat down for a few minutes, took notes with his serious face on as Maria spoke, then rose again when she said his name. Steve moved up to the podium and faced a sea of eager faces. It wasn’t just the probie agents. Even longtime STRIKE agents were awestruck by Steve: they circulated bodycam video and mission footage of Steve jumping out of planes without a ‘chute, fighting off dozens of armed men single-handedly, and executing parkour moves on a motorcycle while being shot at. “Ladies, Gentlemen,” Steve began. The audience smiled and leaned forward a fraction. “I’m a little bit shocked today. Commander Rumlow”--there was a slight shift of discomfort in the audience and some eyes darted to the back of Rumlow’s head-- “tells me that we’re lacking in volunteers to mentor new agents? I almost didn’t believe him, but then I looked at the online sign-up rosters---” Steve said. There was a rustling in the auditorium. Steve glanced up slyly. More than two dozen agents were raising their hands.

 

“Jesus,” one of the probie agents sitting near STRIKE Alpha said. Rumlow looked over his shoulder at the sound and chuckled slightly. Rollins shook his head.

“You’ll have a mentor, Crenshaw, no worries,” Jack said quietly.

 

After the staff meeting, they were standing around talking in the hallway, when Rumlow’s phone rang. He looked at it and grinned. Darcy’s face had popped up on the screen. The phone image was labeled Bettie. “Hello?” he said.

“Hi, there. I heard you were back in town. I have news,”  Darcy said.

“You have news, Bettie?” Brock asked.

“Uh-huh,” she said. “I’m in your workplace. You want to meet me in Room 612 B?”

“Right now?” he said, feeling a jolt of nervousness.

“Preferably, I have something to show you, but I can always track you down if you refuse,” she said. “I will do that. I’ve already delivered brownies to Mike at the front desk, he’d help me.”

“What if I’m not here?” he said.

“All lies, I saw your car in the parking lot,” Darcy said.

“Okay,” he said. “612 B, huh?”

“Uh-huh,” she said. She sounded delighted.

 

He could feel himself shake as he walked down the hallway. This was it. She’d see his face and fucking bail. It was gonna fucking hurt. Badly. He liked her. Plus, it was the first time since Triskelion that anyone had treated him normally. That had been really nice. “Like a vacation from real life,” he said to himself quietly. Well, all vacations had to end sometime.  He realized the 600s were on the other side of the building, the side they were just filling in with new people. He stomped, a little angrily, in spite of himself. A new agent scurried out of the way. “Sorry,” he called dryly. “Mind was on budgets.”

“That’s all right,” the agent said nervously.

 

Brock chuckled bitterly and tried to remember the instructions from his _Strategies for Social Interaction After Burns_ pamphlet:

 

  1. _Have confident body posture._
  2. _Make eye contact._
  3. _Smile!_
  4. _Crack jokes._
  5. _Say, “Yes, I was burned in a ___, but I’m doing much better now.”_



 

 _Christ_ , he thought, _how do I do that with her?_ The truth was, he didn’t want to. He wanted to slump and frown and tell Darcy that sometimes things felt lousy and that he missed being handsome. He hadn’t realized how much of his lifestyle had been predicated on him being conventionally attractive: getting the attention of women, interacting with strangers, moving easily through the workplace. Now everything he did attracted a kind of nervous, wincing attention. He would forget about it and then someone would see him and actually cringe. His face gave people secondhand pain. He was fairly sure it was just instinctive and that people didn’t even realize they did it.

 

***

 

He turned down the correct hallway and realized the lights at the end had gone out. _Odd_ , he thought. It made him nervous. He got to 612 B and could hear music from inside. He knocked and the music was lowered. “Darcy?” he called. It was dark inside--there was an odd dim glow through the little rectangle of glass in the door.

“Come in,” she called back. He inhaled deeply and pushed the door open. She’d turned out the lights because there was something small and round in the middle of the room, projecting stuff on the ceiling. She was standing with her back to him, looking up at it.

“What is this?” he said. It was like a darkened aquarium, he thought. A blue liquid glow.

“All the constellations of Asgard,” she said, reaching for him without turning. He took her hand in the dark, happy to delay the reveal. “It rotates. Thor had it made for Jane as a gift. He used to go out and look at those stars when they were separated, so he wanted her to see what he saw, too.”

“That’s, uh, romantic,” he said, feeling his own efforts at romance slightly diminished. Above him, the constellations swirled at a languid pace. They looked...different. Should they be the same? He wasn’t certain.

“It’s really difficult to put yourself in someone else’s position, you know? They were only together for a little while and then he disappeared for two whole years for her and she thought he’d abandoned her. He’d been checking in on her every night, of course, but she didn’t know that,” she said.

“Yeah?” he said quietly. “You don’t sound mad at him for disappearing on your BFF.”

“Nah, he’s a sweetie, she was over it in about five minutes,” Darcy said. She squeezed his hand. “But I wanted to show it to you for a reason.”

“Why?” he asked, genuinely perplexed, but also enjoying her touch.

“As a good faith gesture,” she told him. “I know but I don’t really know.”

“You know?” he said.

“Your phone screen in the restaurant. It cast a light. Seeing isn’t the same as knowing, though. I can’t possibly know what the last six months have been like for you. Maybe you’re not ready to tell me yet? Maybe I can’t ever know, just because of the subjectivity of, like, human experience? But I’m willing to listen, even if knowing, really knowing, is about as difficult as catching a glimpse of the constellations on Asgard from New Mexico,” she told him. She let out a little nervous breath.

“I, uh, don’t know what to say,” he said. She was very carefully looking at a swirling constellation. Giving him space, he realized, even in the half-light.

“You don’t have to say anything to me now. Jane is contemplating a SHIELD  job, though, so if you’d hate the idea of me being here long-term, I wanted to chec--”

“God, no. Please stay,” he said.

“Yeah,” she said.

“You will?” he said.

“She’s going to sign as soon as I call her,” Darcy said. “Can I ask a small favor?”

“Sure,” he said. She dimmed the constellations, so it was slightly darker in the room.

“Will you dance with me? We never got to dance at that Halloween party,” she told him.

“Yeah,” he said. She pressed another little button on her remote and fifties music started to play. It was one of his favorites: The Flamingos’ “I’ve Only Got Eyes for You.” He sighed as she tucked her head against his shoulder.

“I love this song,” she said.

“Me, too. Forgot it mentioned stars, though,” he said.

“Mmm-hmm,” she said. “I have food, by the way. They’re basically sandwiches, nothing fancy. Technically, I thought this could count as a third date.”

“Third date?” he said wryly.

“I don’t know if this counts as harassing you or if you’ll report me to HR, but I feel like this is my chance to mention that I’ve never actually had sex in a car before,” Darcy said. “But no pressure.” He paused for a moment, thinking.

“Oh, I’m definitely reporting you to HR,” he said.

“Drat,” she said. “Foiled in my attempts to snag the hottest guy at work _again_.” She cuddled him closer.

“What kind of sandwiches are basically sandwiches?” he asked.

“Saltines, peanut butter, and jelly,” she said. “I just found out you were here ten minutes ago. Jane’s bonkers for PB&J, so I’d brought them for our locked allergy zone fridge and I stole the Saltines from the breakroom. I’m not even technically an employee yet.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have some really sad scenes written of Brock & Darcy dealing with people's responses (I did them first because my brain is a troll), but then I wrote this and now I'm like, "Noooo, I can't put them through the public being shitty to them as a couple, this is such a perfect moment."
> 
> So, this might be the end of this story? But in the nicest possible way. I'm not sure yet. Don't quote me. Also, here is the Flamingos with possibly the most perfect du wop song in existence: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=63nlhoda2MY 
> 
> Those are, by the by, real life suggestions they give burn survivors. It's kind of messed up that you'd survive burns and then be asked *to make everyone else feel comfortable,* ain't it?


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